


A Divine Reaction ( To the Divine move)

by Areanna_Whitewolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, F/M, Gen, Knotting, M/M, Oral Sex, Same sex relations, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-06 00:47:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5396492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areanna_Whitewolf/pseuds/Areanna_Whitewolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remember when Scott bit the Nogitsune. Well, what if the devine move had a reaction no one expected? A legend comes to call. A legend so old it is almost forgotten through the sands of time. A story foretold in the simplest of folklore. A history about to bleed through Stiles like a wild fire</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of Wolf and Man

**Author's Note:**

> This idea hit me like a ten ton brick and I had to write it. It might replace the first teen wolf story I am writing, since that one didn’t exactly go like I wanted it to. Ignoring season four and five completely, I have decided to try my hand in this. If the first chapter strikes your fancy, comment. 
> 
> Also, for the sake of those who miss Allison, the Oni didn’t kill either her or Aiden. I don’t like death. And my characters might be slightly OC. Erica and Boyd never died. And Jackson never left. The first chapter may start off a bit unstable and shaky. I’ve just gotten out of some surgery and am a little shaken. But I had to write this. The muses are the gods here. I’m just the one with the fingers to type what they want.
> 
> \--------------------------------------------

Stiles felt the world tilt as he watched the Nogitsune crumble into a puff of dust. His vision turned red and fire filled his veins with a sudden flash. It was a fever with no end. But instead of it making him feel faint, a sudden strength came with the heat. It wasn’t like anything he’d ever felt in his life. It defied words.

After all, how could anyone explain the raw power of lightening as it struck them?

He bent over helplessly as the energy took control. His muscles pulsed and stretched, building around his limbs. A primal cry sung through his brain, washing away the darkness of his former tormentor. And even as his heart raced, he felt the power of something animal and ancient settle in his blood.

With a final shifting of bone and a loud cry, the transformation ended. Stiles slipped away as the newly born creature inside of him thrived. His head lifted high to the ceiling and gave a powerful piercing howl.

Then the darkness took him and he slipped away into the comfort of unconsciousness. He had done enough for one night. It was time to rest and heal.

\-----------------------------------------

The other two people in the hallway came towards Stiles as he sank down. But almost immediately they backed up again, terror forming in their eyes.

Out of all the possible reactions Stiles could have had, this one was just freaking insane.

Scott shook as he backed up. What was happening in front of him wasn’t supposed to be possible. He watched as his friend’s mouth grew fangs not unlike his own. He closed his eyes and hoped it was just one last trick by the Nogitsune. But as his own claws dug into his hands, and his eyes opened, he knew it was all too real.

Lydia stood beside Scott as she shook her head in her own extreme disbelief.

“Is that supposed to happen? The bite was only supposed to affect the Fox demon, wasn’t it?”

Scott swallowed hard as he watched his friend writhe through a change he didn’t recognize. When he’d been bitten, it didn’t look anything like what Stiles was going through. He grew the claws and fangs, but Stiles’ transformation took that to a whole new level. And to make matters worse, the deep blood red glow shining from those eyes almost made him want to show throat. Power poured off his friend like a waterfall off of river rapids.

“I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t…this isn’t supposed to happen! Call Derek or Deaton! I…he wasn’t supposed to change! What have I done?!”

Lydia pulled out her phone, hoping that Derek would be close by. She watched as Stiles finally stopped moving and passed out in front of them.

Something was seriously wrong.  
\--------------------------------------------------

The world came into sharp focus as Stiles finally opened his eyes. The putrid smell of antiseptic and the cloying odor he somehow knew was mountain ash rammed into his nose like a brick and made him sneeze. And he was also pinned quite tightly to a cold metal table. 

None of this was looking good at the moment. 

But before he could utter a complaint, a quiet voice spoke out of the dim shadowy atmosphere.

“Stiles are you awake? Do you know who I am?”

Stiles blinked and turned his head.

“Dad? Is that you? Where am I? Why am I strapped to a table? What’s going on?”

His dad’s face appeared in his vision with a tired smile and bloodshot eyes. 

“Yeah, that’s definitely my kid. Always asking too many questions before any of them could be answered. It’s good to hear your voice though, Kiddo. You’ve been out for five days. We’re at Deaton’s hospital at the moment, in case you’re wondering. As for why you’re strapped to the table…well that’s a little more complicated. I don’t feel I’m the right person to explain it to you. Since I don’t actually understand most of it myself. I’ll go get Deaton. He’ll let you up I think, once he’s sure you’re…well I’ll just go get him.”

Stiles never heard his father so jittery and worried all at the same time before. Nothing scared the Sherriff. The last time Stiles had heard anything close to that tone was when his dad tried to explain why his mom was going into the hospital. He still had no idea what was going on, but he hated it more and more and the seconds passed. 

He was on the verge of vibrating on the table when the lights came on slowly, just enough to brighten the room. Then Deaton appeared above him, his usual calmness just as unnerving as it always was.

“Well, Stiles, before we get into any serious discussion about what happened, I would like you to answer a few simple questions. Depending on the way you answer them, we might be able to unchain you from the table.”

Stiles huffed and nodded. 

“Go ahead, Doctor Puppy pals. Ask away. Cause I would really like not to be strapped to your table-o-doom. I get this crazy feeling that one too many animals have been on here who were just about to be fixed. Quite frankly, for all its stable back support and sturdy structure against werewolves, it kind of gives me a massive case of the willies.”

Deaton actually smiled.

“Well that certainly puts me at ease that you are in your right mind. It was one of our concerns. Tell me, do you feel any need to go into a murderous rage?”

Stiles thought it was an odd question to say the least. But if it meant being released, he’d show his naked baby photos. 

“Um, I am a bit pissed I missed the Star-gate marathon in my five day coma. I also have this weird itch on my inner thigh I want to scratch that’s a little annoying. But other than that, I’m as cool as a cucumber in a metal frig.”

“Good. Do you feel any sort of weakness or illness at all? Perhaps a need to vomit?”

“Not really. The mountain ash in the air makes me want to sneeze a little. Not to mention the Mistletoe and Wolfsbane you dipped my hand cuffs in is causing an odd sort of tingle. But other than that, I feel like I could take on the Alpha pack without breaking a sweat. Not that I would, because hello, human here…but still, I feel as good as a person can being trapped on a metal slab. Next question.”

Deaton made a curious sound and tilted his head before he spoke again.

“What do you last remember before waking up here?”

Stiles closed his eyes for a moment.

“I remember Scott biting the Nogitsune and then…I don’t know. The last thing I heard was a howl I think. And maybe Lydia saying something. After that everything was kind of blank. The Nogitsune is really gone, right?”

When Deaton nodded, Stiles breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Well, Stiles, we can release you from the table. Then I will explain why we put you there in the first place.”

The minute Stiles was free, he stretched stiff muscles and sat up, getting used to his limbs again. Something was different about him, but what that was, he couldn’t be sure.

After feeling his back crack, he looked up at the Vet and waited for an explanation to all of this. 

“It took some serious digging to understand exactly what happened to you, Stiles. I actually had to search into my great grandmother’s druid archives to find the information I wanted. When Scott bit the Nogitsune, it wasn’t supposed to affect you at all. But, as with all things supernatural, it didn’t turn out that way.”

Stiles blinked and sighed.

“I’m a werewolf now, aren’t I?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. You are a werewolf. But you aren’t like any werewolf that’s been heard of in nearly two thousand years. What happened to you is so rare, they thought it impossible. It was thought as a Myth. A myth I am sure you’ve heard of. Have you ever seen the original Wolfman?”

Stiles nodded. Research was research. And when Scott had been bitten, he had soaked up every bite of Werewolf material he could get his hands on. 

“Yeah, way back when Scott was first bitten. Why?”

Deaton stepped closer and recited something Stiles knew all too well. 

_“ ‘Even a man who is pure in heart and says his prayers at night…”_

Stiles finished the verse

_“ ‘…Can become a wolf when the Wolfsbane blooms and the autumn moon is bright’ ”_

Deaton nodded. He’d always known that Stiles was brilliant

“Very good. You remember your pop culture with an almost encyclopedic knowledge, it would seem. However, that small sentence is part of a much bigger legend that’s been lost to all but the most ancient and traditional of werewolf packs. Not even the Hales, as prolific as they were, knew the full scope of it. But my great grandmother was of a line dating back to some of the very first emissaries. I found a scroll in her collection that sounded somewhat familiar…though it is much longer and differently worded than the one used in any movie.”

Deaton cleared his throat and closed his eyes as he recited the proper legend he now knew by heart.

 _“For he who walks beside the beasts_  
_And dares to call them friend_  
_By blackened sacrifice the sacred mark_  
_He whom Nature sees fit to bend_

 _He who is pure of hand and heart_  
_And walks alone into the fight_  
_He who knows innocent ally from guilty foe_  
_And lives by law of wrong and right_

 _A calling of the primal heart_  
_Shall he be granted this most holy gift_  
_And between the nature of man and wolf_  
_Shall forever seal their ancient rift._

 _On the mark of the autumn night_  
_By the blessed of True Alpha’s boon_  
_Be he saved from unnatural death_  
_By the sigil of the Wolfsbane bloom.”_

Stiles sat there for a moment, thinking of the words and trying to piece them together. But after recent harrowing events, his mind was still adjusting just to being awake.

“That’s a beautiful poem. And you have great oratory skills, Doc. But what does that even mean?”

Alan opened his eyes. 

“When Scott became a true Alpha, I thought that the rarity of this pack was done. This pack that was started by Peter’s bite has become something of a contradiction to the rules I thought were set in stone. First you have a wolf who not only is back from the dead, but actually managed to survive the burning of his pack in front of him. That was hard enough. Not to mention that in accepting him into an unstable pack, you’ve all but managed to cure his ferality. Also not an easy feat. 

But you now have amount your ranks a total of five alphas, one of which is an alpha by sheer force of will, and two who gave up their leadership by the same. Then you have a banshee, a huntress of one of the oldest of hunter bloodlines, and a werewolf who was a Kanima and survived death twice. Even leaderless, scattered and divided, you have managed to defeat foes that other packs have died taking on. Kate and Gerard collectively managed to decimate fourteen of the largest werewolf packs between France and America. The Alpha pack has managed to wipe out in their time five times that many between three continents. Between the Darach and the Nogitsune, you were up against almost insurmountable forces. The power, strength, and skill it takes to outlive both back to back is something I know for a fact not many can boast even considering, never mind achieving.”

Alan paused for a moment before piercing Stiles with his gaze.

“But you were there, standing tall through each crashing wave. Like a mountain that refuses to bend to the sea, your determination could not be broken and washed away. You were single human with an untrained spark you knew nothing about, and yet you somehow managed to survive. You’ve sacrificed blood, endured torture, and still you managed to hold your ground on the front-lines of a war you didn’t even have to fight. You could have been like most humans who choose to remain ignorant and blind, even with a werewolf as a friend. But you rose above that and became the heart of a pack who didn’t want to be a pack in the first place.”

Stiles shook his head. 

“Sometimes I think I caused more problems than helped fix them. I don’t know. I mean, if I hadn’t been so incurably nosy, Scott wouldn’t have been turned in the first place.”

Alan looked at the door as the pack filed in one by one. Stiles bowed, defeated head didn’t allow him to see them, so Alan pulled his head up and made him look. 

“Look at the people before you. There isn’t a life you haven’t touched in some way. There isn’t a life that you haven’t helped to change. You saved a great deal of them in fact. Whether by constant research, a caring hand, or an almost immeasurable sense of compassion and loyalty.

“You were saving Scott long before his turning. He has told me many stories of you childhood friendship, where just by being there, you helped him through asthma attacks that would have landed him in the hospital without your quick thinking. And you constant need to make sure your father never met an early grave brought him through the harshest pain one can suffer in life. And who was there to comfort both mother and son not only through the loss of a husband and father, but also through the perils’ of the supernatural?”

Derek spoke next.

“Who was there to hold me up for almost three hours in a pool and keep me from drowning? And whose constant chatter helped to keep me just awake enough to wait for the cure to a special kind of wolfsbane?”

Then Lydia Spoke.

“Who was there giving constant support during the time where my banshee powers would have driven me insane. Who was a friend even when I was too much of a bitch to even care who you were?”

Isaac voice followed hers. 

“Who was the one who hounded me to call his dad for three straight weeks even when I literally threatened painful death. And who held my hand when they finally pushed my dad into a police car and freed me from him for good?”

Erica piped in then, short and to the point. 

“You took torture for the pack and told Gerard nothing. Even when I hit you with a car part for no good reason. That takes more guts than I ever had as a human.”

Jackson spoke next.

“I was an ass to you and you still wanted to save me.”

Stiles blinked and turned to Deaton.

“Alright, I can’t respond to that without crying like a baby. So for the sake of my manly pride, I’m so totally going to deflect. You said five Alpha’s. I only count four. And isn’t Derek a beta now?”

“Derek is a beta for the time it takes his Alpha spark to heal. He is still the last remaining Alpha of the Hale pack, and unless someone kills him, that is what he will remain. And as for the fifth…that is part of situation that brought you here in the first place. You are the rarest of the rare. There were, until you, laws to the werewolf that were set in stone. 

“The only ways to be a werewolf is by birth or bite. You become one without either to aid you. There were three ways to become Alpha. By death of an alpha through natural causes was one way. Stealing it is another, which you’ve seen. And as Scott has proven, one can become an alpha by sheer force of will. Rare, but not entirely unheard of. Again you became an alpha without these conditions. You are pure of blood on your hands, despite what the Nogitsune did with you.”

Stiles eyes opened wide.

“Wait, are you saying I am…”

Deaton nodded, his steady heart in his chest and serious look in his eyes too honest to be a lie. 

“You are unlike any wolf born or bitten. You are the marriage between humanity and animal instinct. You are stronger than any Alpha born, bitten, alive, or dead. Nature granted you a sacred gift. Neither Wolfsbane, Mountain ash, silver or mistletoe can cause you serious injury. Which means your spark survived the turning. Something that has never happened in history.”

Alan pulled up his shirt and pointed to a newly etched mark over the center of his chest. It was a vine of purple flowers twined around a heart. Behind that was a glowing full moon. 

“You’ve been marked by the earth mother herself. Blessed and formed anew. There is a name they gave you once, one forgotten and thought lost. Now in you, that name thrives again. You are the Alpha Primordial. The Sacred Alpha. The heart of all wolves.”

Stiles closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Focusing inward, like he’d taught Scott ages ago, he pulled his wolf forward and felt that beta change climb over him with an ease that would freak him out later when he was alone and had time to let this all wash over him. 

As his eyes snapped open, his faced the ragtag group standing in the doorway, red eyes meeting with all of them. Letting his instincts take over, he threw his head back and howled pure and true, the power of it washing over the entire group. And when the howl ended, smiling faces and kind eyes looked at him as all throats were bared in truth. There was a long road ahead of them, but this was his pack and they accepted him. That was all that matter. 

After two thousand years lost in the sands of time, the Alpha Prime had risen again. 

And inside the Wolf, the lost boy who felt lost for so long felt comforting warmth wash over him. 

It felt like coming home.


	2. What it means to be....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First Scott learns to get a clue...and then Stiles tells them like it is. Pack feels and curse words A-bound...'Robin' shows his skills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a hard time deciding how this chapter was going to go....this is what happened. Like it...comment....Don't like it...don't burn me.

It was three days later as Stiles and Derek walked out of the woods in the middle of Stiles first training day. Derek had started him off easy with hunting and tracking while the other teenagers had been left to do combat training. What they walked up on shocked Stiles all to hell.

Jackson had Isaac in a sloppy headlock, doing it in a fashion that looked for the world like a high school wrestling match. Scott was obviously showing off to Allison by doing one armed pull-ups from a tree branch. The twins were trying to get Peter into a mock tug of war with his own sweater and Erica and Boyd were sitting on the ground near by making out. 

Stiles looked at Derek like he had two heads before speaking.

“Is this how they usually train?”

Derek shrugged.

“Yeah, pretty much. I’ve tried to teach them differently, but I wasn’t exactly trained myself on how to be an Alpha. Most of what I say goes in one ear and out the other.”

Stiles shook his head and cursed in a language Derek thought might have been polish.

“How did we even survive this long? If this is a usual training session it’s a wonder that we aren’t dead yet.”

Derek felt the need to suddenly defend them.

“They‘re still wet around the ears, but they aren’t too bad. Besides Alpha or no Alpha, you are really too new to this to judge.”

“Derek, my dad isn’t Sheriff by accident. I don’t really tell many people, but my family, especially on my father’s side is pretty much full of trained officers. My great grandfather and his three brothers were all in the Army. My grandfather was a decorated Navy Seals Master Chief before he retired. My two uncles are Police commissioners in the states of Michigan and Montana. My Uncle’s first wife is an Army Sergeant and my only biological Aunt on my father’s side has one of the highest arrest records in New York. 

“My Father was in the Marines himself for two tours in Iraq before we settled here when I was born. He got a job at the Sheriff station easy and rose to the rank of Sheriff when I was in preschool. I was handling a pop gun while I was practically learning to walk. I was learning to use my first BB gun by the tender age of eight and my father began taking me to the local gun range by the time I was fourteen. The only reason I don’t own a gun yet is because of my ADHD. However I can handle most of the guns in Mr. Argent’s collection easily. Hell, given my boost in strength now, I could use Allison’s crossbow as well, if not even better, than she can.”

Derek looked at him.

“Either you can lie now without your heartbeat giving it away or you believe that so much it’s become a truth for you. The military family background I’ll believe. You being able to hit more than the broad side of a barn…that I won’t believe without seeing it. Especially with a bow you’ve never even mentioned being trained to use in the first place.”

Stiles smirked a little. He smelled a bet in the air. 

“Care to wager on it, oh great and mighty born Alpha?”

Derek looked at him.

“I’m going to live to regret this, but fine. As long as no one gets hurt in the pack, I’ll take the wager. What are the stakes?”

Stiles rubbed his chin. 

“If I can hit a target dead center once, you let me take over the training once a week on a day of my choosing. And you have to let my dad help out. If I lose, you can stick me with Jackson and Peter for a full month of training. I think that’s a fair trade.”

Derek thought about it silently for a few moments before he stuck out his hand.

“We have a deal.”

Stiles grinned and, shaking Derek’s hand, called Allison over. After swearing up and down he knew what he was doing and letting her instruct him on the handling of the bow, they set up the target and cleared the field. 

Derek spoke up.

“Now remember, you have to hit perfect. It has to be dead center or I win.”

Stiles only nodded, testing the tension in the bow and letting his senses judge the wind direction and velocity. Arming the bow with a simple barbed silver arrow, he paid no attention to the packs nay-saying around him. He shut out everything but the target, his father’s voice in his head telling him to focus. Taking a deep breath and centering the point of the arrow where he needed it to go; he drew back and let it fly. Not even two minutes later, he managed to not only hit the center of the target fifty feet away but to take another arrow and split the first down the center. 

No one said a word as shock held them still. Then, clearing his throat, Scott put his two cents in.

“Hey buddy, remember when you said you didn’t want to be Robin all of the time?”

Stiles shrugged. He remembered a lot of things.

“Yeah. What about it?”

Scott chuckled. 

“Well I think you’ll be stuck as Robin for the rest of your life. But forget Batman and Robin, you’re more of a Robin Hood. Damn, that shot was sweet.”

Then Scott looked at Derek. 

“Derek, I have one word of advice. Unless you are the one to come up with the bet, don’t ever agree to it with Stiles. I’ve lost some of the most treasured collectables that way. My dad was pissed when he finally moved out and couldn’t find his collection or first edition baseball cards with the penned autographs of the baseball players. They belonged to my grandfather who’s already dead. I made the mistake of accepting Stiles bet back in grad school and wound up losing the entire collection. 

“With the cards in that collection alone, Stiles has already managed to pay off the mortgage without his dad knowing about it. Not to mention he can go to the best college in the country. And after my dad lost to him at the age of 10 to an absolutely awesome poker hand, he is probably got enough so that his dad would never have to work again.”

Stiles snickered. 

“There’s only one problem wrong with your title for me Scott. With the exception of Lydia, who I finally accepted as a friend, I would never have a Maid Marian.”

Scott looked at him confused.

“Stiles, you look hot now. Which by the way I would hate you for if I didn’t have Allison already. You could probably get any girl in school you wanted. Don’t sell yourself short.”

When Scott heard snickers around him, he got even more confused.

“What’s so funny? There’s nothing wrong with Stiles.”

It was Jackson who spoke up.

“You’ve got to be kidding, McCall. I knew you weren’t bright like Lydia and Stilinski here, but I thought you were smarter than that.”

Scott shook his head.

“What does that even have to do with anything?”

Allison took pity on her boyfriend. 

“Scott, with the exception of Lydia Martin, who is now solely in the best female friend category, Stiles hasn’t shown any interest in girls outside of the quick swiping of his v-card. And even that had little to do with girls and probably more to do with not reaching the age of twenty still being a virgin. Honey, Stiles is gay. So gay in fact Danny threatened to take him to the jungle and hook him up for the night just to get him to relax. I thought you knew. Everyone does at this point.”

Scott looked at Stiles with a dumbfounded expression before speaking.

“Dude, why didn’t you ever say anything?”

Stiles slapped himself in the forehead.

“Oh my god Scott, not even Lydia’s dog Prada is that stupid. I knew you weren’t paying attention that day in the hall when I asked you if I was attractive to gay guys. I do ask a lot of non-important questions, but I was dead serious with that one. Not to mention the whole paper on Circumcision I turned in for my e-con report. 

“Hell, Coach actually approached me a week later and made me sit in his office to confess I was a raging Homo. And we aren’t talking about a homosapien either. Two days after my dad found me at the jungle, he actually sat me down and had me tell him about my true sexuality. It was heartwarming until he cried in his coffee and knocked a perfectly good piece of carrot cake into his lap. Then we were too busy laughing to be emotional.”

Scott was silent for a few moments, a look of concentration on his face. Then he looked at Stiles with shock and in true Scott fashion, asked the question that had nothing to do with anything.

“Wait, does that mean I turn you on? Are you attracted to me?”

Stiles face palmed dramatically and flailed his arms as he shook his head.

“OH. MY. GOD!”

The group fell in gales of laughter as Stiles mock fainted and laid there on the ground, staring at Scott like he was an Alien race from another planet. 

“Seriously Dude, you are like my brother. Really Scott?! I am recalling your man card and slapping you silly as soon as I get over the trauma you have just put me through. That’s like asking me if I would sleep with my dad just because he’s a man. You know what…EEEEWWWW!”

\--------------------------------------------------------

After two hours of eating lunch and letting settle, they were once again back outside for training. Derek was about to announce another attempt at training them in some kind of order, but Stiles touched his shoulder, shaking his head. They wouldn’t listen, and the two Alphas both knew that. After a minute, Derek sighed and stepped back, knowing it had to be done. They needed a wakeup call. They needed to see for themselves how ill prepared they were. 

Stiles waited silently for a moment, hearing his father’s cruiser coming up the path. But he noticed no one else even heard it. He sighed and plugged his ears, seeing Derek and Peter do the same. Then his dad stepped out of the car away from everyone’s view and with him, Deputy Parrish stood with a dog and a dog whistle. 

Stiles waited for the others to all groan and hold their hands over their ears before he pulled his fingers out of his own. Then standing tall, he waited until his father stood beside him. Then looking up with Red eyes glowing he spoke. 

“You are all pathetic! You didn’t even hear a car approaching the clearing. They could have been a league of hunters and you would all be dead or wounded by now. It took a freaking dog whistle to make you pay attention.”

Jackson in his usual ‘I am better than everyone’ way, immediately had to open his mouth.

“Oh look at the big alpha. Really Stilinski, just because your eyes glow red and you can shoot fancy arrows doesn’t make you better than the rest of us. Even with the red eyes, I could beat your ass.”

John looked like he was about to growl himself. But Stiles put up his hand and shook his head. They had to learn.

“Really, hotshot? Alright then, show me what you’re made of.”

Jackson blinked. 

“You mean fight you now. Please, I’m not that stupid. You’re dad would probably shoot me.”

Stiles snorted. 

“He knows not to interfere. And you’re a teenager, dickhead. The last thing he wants is a criminal record that says he kills teenagers just because his son picked a fight with them. This is you against me. Picture it like a Lacrosse match where the goal is to take me down. That should make it easy for a jock like you.”

Jackson looked around and sniffed. Then he got into charging position and without a word charged at his opponent full stop. He shifted mid run, determined to show this still somewhat skinny kid he was the better wolf.

Stiles got into a stance that no one could figure out and waited until just before Jackson’s shoulder would have knocked him down. He twisted gracefully and slid between Jackson's legs on his belly. Then bending his upper body, he grabbed Jackson’s ankles and took the ground out from underneath him.

He hopped up just as the Jocks angry growl signaled another attack. He waited until just the right moment before using Jackson’s shoulders to flip himself over the taller boy. Wrapping his arm around the other teenagers throat he took him down and growled.

“Are you done yet, Jackass? Do you yield?”

Jackson struggled before the fight went out of him. He knew he was beaten.

“I yield, just let go of me.”

Stiles let go and stood, brushing himself off and lifting Jackson with him. Turning to say something to his father, he didn’t expect Jackson’s foot to come flying at his head. It clipped his ear and causing a gouge into his forehead and cheek.

He felt the pack try to fly to his defense and his eyes became completely red, even the whites. He roared out from where he had been driven to a knee, his command coming from power.

“NO! No one move. I am alright.”

He stood up and cracked his neck, wiping off the blood even as the wound healed. He turned around to see Jackson’s smug face staring at him. He shook his head sadly.

“You know something Jackson; I’ve hated you so much in the past. You seemed to have everything I wanted. You had the best girl, the coolest car, all the friends, and this seemingly unbreakable confidence. Then the Kanima came along, and I thought I finally understood this armor you wore around you. I felt like it was all in the name of protecting your hurt at not knowing your true parents. You felt like they abandoned you. I got that. After my mom died, I felt so angry. I felt like she didn’t fight enough. That she just gave up. So I thought at least that we shared a little bit in common.”

Stiles closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he continued.

“Now I’m ashamed to say that I let my jealousy and envy blind me. We are nothing alike, and I’m glad we aren’t. You have everything a guy could ask for, and you still feel greedy inside. You still think you need to prove yourself. You couldn’t take me head on and I really get that. I may look like a spazz, but my dad has been training me since I was five. One of the first lessons he taught me was to accept defeat takes greater courage and honor than accepting victory. Victory is easy to accept. Defeat is far harder, but in that moment, you realize that you have to learn more. You’ve never learned this.

“You had to wait until my back was turned before your strike actually worked. And while I can’t fault you for fighting dirty, there isn’t any victory to it either. You did it for your own wounded pride, because you just don’t get it. You’ve been fed with a silver spoon all your life and your parents dote on you like you are a treasure. If you don’t like someone, you can get your father to put them in their place when you can’t. You’ve never had to really fight hard for anything because it was given to you. And while you are a star lacrosse player, you use your status to make others around you feel small. You spent high school trying to make Scott and I feel like shit, and that’s not even half as bad as what you did to Erica. You pushed Isaac into a locker and laughed while he screamed for an hour. All to make yourself feel like the big man.”

Stiles raised his fist and punched Jackson square in the jaw. It didn’t draw blood but it did knock him down.

“You think that punch made me feel powerful. You think it makes me feel good on the inside to know that just because I’m an Alpha I can knock you down. NO! It doesn’t make me feel anything but pain because I’ve hurt a pack member. But you had it coming and you know it. This isn’t a game Jackson. This isn’t a Lacrosse meet where the only thing you have to worry about is being better than the other team. This is real life. And unless …”

He felt a hand yank him back and was more than surprised to see Scott’s blood red eyes staring him down.

“Stiles, dude, he’s about to cry. That’s enough already.”

Stiles growled and yanked his arm away.

“It’s not enough. You don’t understand. You’ve been given this gift and you treat it like it's some prize you can play with or ignore whenever you feel like. Don’t any of you get it?”

He beta shifted and his eyes burned as he looked at his pack.

“You’ve been given this powerful, sacred blessing and you treat it like it’s a fucking joke. You’ve all forgotten what it means to be without it. It made all your lives so much better and that’s all you see. But while you were all running around playing werewolf, you didn’t see half the danger I did. You didn’t get to live with the nightmares of a human mind that cared too fucking much to let you go it on your own. You all cheered me in Deaton’s office because I helped you, right?

“But who was there to help me? Who was there to help me when I vomited constantly after I watched a burned man get his throat ripped out? Who was there to help me when I saw a woman’s dead body being dragged away by my father? Who had to be the one to lie every day, because telling the truth could put the only parent I had in mortal danger? Who was there when I lost countless hours of sleep because I had to do school work and research and translate an entirely French bestiary? Who was there giving me comfort when Gerard beat and tortured me for hours and I had to listen to two of my friends getting electrocuted in the next room.”

Tears bled from his red eyes as he glared at them all. 

“I never complained. I couldn’t. Derek was too busy either being fucking guilty and brooding, or being high on the power trip of being an Alpha. Plus he had to save two teenage pack mates from the Alpha pack. Then he reunited with his sister. Scott you were too fucking busy with your girlfriend to care what I was going through. The rest of you I can’t even blame, because we barely knew each other, even if I called you all my friends. Everyone just wants to shut me up. Well, I AM FUCKING TIRED OF BEING PUSHED ASIDE!”

He pointed to everyone.

“I don’t like to boast too much. I joke and play around and use sarcasm, so everyone else can get through their own problems. But without me behind the scenes busting my ass and putting the pieces together, none of you would have been half as alive as you are right now. With the exception of Peter, who is insane most of the time, and Derek, who had to grow up too damn fast to know what he was doing, you all play with this gift like it’s some great fucking super power you’ve all been granted. A get out of jail free card. You got bitten and suddenly all the bad shit in your lives just suddenly went away. Well guess what…WAKE THE HELL UP PEOPLE!

“This is real life. Where people like my dad and Parrish put their life on the line every freaking day. Where it isn’t a game and people die. Derek, Peter, Cora, Allison, my dad and me, we know the real danger that can kill you when you aren’t looking. We know what it means when it can all rip your heart apart, when fate is a cruel bitch and kills the ones you love. You are supposed to be a pack. You are supposed to treat this like you are one unit. You are a family united by more than blood, and fangs, and fur. I understood that long before any of you because I know what it’s like to be the one outside looking in. For three years I watched this pack. You were supposed to grow together and become strong.”

He sighed.

“But you’re not strong. My dad is a human, forty three year old man and he is stronger than all of you. Because true strength doesn’t lie in your fists or fangs. It isn’t measured in how many back flips you can do on a lacrosse field. Nor is it how much more power you have now. It’s the people you are fighting for. The ones you protect. The ones that you love. My dad gets up and goes to work every day with one thing on his mind. He wants his son and people like me to be safe. Even if that means he isn’t. And even with all the shit I was forced to put him through because of you, he lives by that truth every damn day. You are weak and if you fight it’s only for yourselves. If it continues that way, you’ll all die before you reach twenty-five, werewolf or not.”

Taking one more deep breath, he slowly let it out and centered himself again.

“I lost my mom, and I made a vow that day. One I live by, and one I strive every day to achieve. No one else will die if I can help it. If it’s in me to do something that will help save a life, even if I don’t like that person, I will do what I can to make sure they survive. So that means you are now the ones I have to help. But I know I can’t do it alone. So this is how it’s going to go.

“Three times a week we are going to train. But this time it won’t be like it was today. For once you are going to listen to the lessons Derek and Peter give you. They were born into this. They understand it far more than you ever will. Within them is a bloodline that can stretch almost fifteen hundred years. The Hales are the fourth oldest pack in the world, and legacy like that is something you can learn from. But that means actually listening. This isn’t gym class. This is life. And life is hard and cruel when you are too ignorance to pay attention.”

He pointed to his father.

“One of those three days you will train under my father, Chris Argent, Deputy Parrish, and his friend Thor. Each of these men has a long history of combat training from different areas of expertise. My father you know about because you heard me earlier. Chris Argent comes from a hunter family that can nearly be traced back to the first werewolves. Deputy Parrish is a master in MMA and was also trained by my father, and Thor will help teach you about your instincts and what it means to tap into your wolf side without becoming a feral beast. We will all be training. A pack who trains together learns to work together. Which will be critical in saving all our lives when the next big bad dumps its crap on Beacon Hills?”

Stiles looked around him and solemnly spoke again.

“The Hale pack was nearly wiped out when Kate burned the pack. Their ashes lay in the bones of this land. But Kate didn’t win. Three Hales still live. And through two of them, the powerful lineage was passed on to us. We are what’s left. Now we can continue how we have been, and even from the grave Kate will laugh in victory as future battles pick us off one by one as we remain separate and divided, blinded by our ignorance.

“Or, we can become a true pack, one that is respected and whom others come to in their time of need. We can never bring back the dead, but from the ashes of those who were taken, we can help their gifted legacy rise again. It won’t be today, and it won’t be tomorrow, but one day we can truly become a family thriving on the footsteps of those who came before us. To keep them alive in our united kinships. We can become the Hale Pack again…if we fight for it.”

Stiles looked at all of them. 

“Are you ready to fight for it? Are you ready to become a true pack? Are you ready to truly become what you were meant to be when you were blessed with the bite?”

As each set of determined eyes stared back at him, he saw the truth. And in each nod of a head, the weak pack bonds began to knit themselves together. It would take a lot of work, time, sweat, and tears, but one day soon…

The Hale pack would rise again!


	3. Not a Chapter....but a desperate plea for help.

Dear Readers

I am sorry it is taking so long for me to get back to writing. Let me explain. I have had a " stellar" year this year. 

My readers may know some of this, but I garantee you don't know all of it. 

In order now. 2016 went a little like this. First the move from New York to North Carolina three months earlier then I planned. Then My mother died. Then I suffered a 2 month long bout with Broncitis so bad it fractured two ribs. Got over that only for my doctor to take me off of the ritalin I've been on for two years cold turkey. 6 drugs later, they found the one drug that works half way decent for my bi-polar disorder, which for years was diagnosed A.D.H.D. . My girlfriend loses her mind and a few months later, her Shrink decides to convince her I am a burden to her mental and physical wellbieng and she should cut me out of her life. Her excuse for this was that she believed I was not independent enough and if she kicked me out, I would learn fast. I ended up in a homeless shelter that was a Christian Mission. They caught me trying to write a chapter for Sookie of a Different breed and threatened to write me up. Three write-ups would be an immediate removel of all my stuff and my person. I was lucky in that they allowed me on the internet for a half hour everyday. Of course that was only between 1 pm and 5 pm....for me and 23 other ladies living there. Then I was forced to quit smoking way before I was ready. Being poor will kill a habit faster then any drug. 

Finally after a three month stint in that Joint, I moved in with my long time friend and her son. I worked for her husband up in N.Y. for 12 years and she is a double amputee. A nice woman....who was diagnosed with kidney cancer and has no idea how to take care of herself anymore without losing her shit. I help her four times a day with Dyalisis ( Yes I know that's not how you spell it.). Each treatment takes an hour. She is also a diabetic who LOVES sweets. Remember Tara's line in the first season of true blood. "You can't give V to Jason Stackhouse. That's like givin' Ho-Ho's to a diabetic. You know he can't control himself." Yeah, well, That's Linda. She eats what she wants and expects the insulin pump attached to her body to fix everything. It really doesn't. It's like chasing after a toddler determined to stick their whole body in the fire place because it feels warm. 

Then my keyboard died 3 months ago. I had the virtual keyboard that worked like shit. I finally got a new one for Christmas. Of course, once I had it, all the ideas I had for stories when I didn't have one just f**king disappear. *sigh*

So in between all this shit I have to figure out how to write. I have sharted 7 chapters between two of my stories. Every time I think I have it, I can't get anywhere with it and it falls short. Also music helps a great deal to inspire 75 percent of what I write, and lately the pickings are kind of slim. I don't have writers block. I have real life block. I need fresh ideas , fresh music and a rejuvenation for my muses...

So once more my readers I call to you. If I'm to continue writing again, I need your help. Where would you like to see my stories go. What is your input. And if anyone says "SEX" Lafayette will come out of my head to bitch slap you so hard your 4xgreat Grandchildren will feel it. 

I am humble before you my readers. Humble ...and frightened that I will never get back my spark. Help me to remember why I love to write for you. A writer seldom prostrates herself before her fans...But if I'm to give you more story to read, well, Pride go-eth before the fall. I am not too proud to admit I need help. 

Thank you.


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